


Doctor Pigvago

by missdibley



Series: From Siberia With Love [2]
Category: Great Escapo, The Great Escapo - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Smut, muppets - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:02:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4506978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Great Escapo and his charming assistant Bess The Willling are to be man and wife. But will the path to the altar be clear?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor Pigvago

A few years ago, on a snowy night, there came a knock at my dressing room door. I had just finished the late show at [The Grand Hiddlestonian](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Palmer_House_Hilton), a historic Chicago hotel that was destroyed by, and then rebuilt after, [the great fire](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Chicago_Fire) that ravaged most of the city in 1871. The hotel had a theater whose manager liked to book vintage-inspired acts like mine, so I often shared the bill with burlesque troupes from Cincinnati, strongmen out of Saskatoon, and poodle circuses all the way from Paris. While Chicago in December isn’t quite as warm as Miami in May, I always take the Hiddlestonian job whenever my agent Alfred can secure it. The Windy City is a fine town with a strong work ethic and a real appreciation for a gentleman with a bold mustache.

It was just past midnight on New Year’s Eve, and my final trick, where I get shot out of a cannon from the stage into the lap of an audience member sitting in the upper balcony, had gone off without a hitch. Offers to celebrate with guests who had caught my act, hotheaded busboys with tips to spend, and [“painted women”](http://carl-sandburg.com/chicago.htm) who usually prowled the hotel lobby for dates were appreciated, but not taken.

I ignored the knock at first. I just wanted to sit for a moment and enjoy the feeling of peace that always came over me after a job well-done. My hair was wet, and I was clad only in my bathrobe after a quick shower, not suitably dressed for company. When the knock came again, I sighed, stood up on my sock-clad feet, and shuffled to the door.

There stood on my doorstep an angel. Her plump pink lips were curled in a wistful smile, just under a round button nose and dark almond-shaped eyes. Black hair fell in waves out of a tweed newsboy cap jammed on top of her head. Her ankle-length wool coat was buttoned up to her chin, so her cheeks were flushed from the steam heat that warmed the backstage area of the theater.

“I’m sorry, but I just… I just wanted to tell you how much I admire you.” The angel held out a pen and an autograph book. “Would you…?”

Keeping mute was part of my act, still is, but I didn’t need to act when I saw her. I had no words, for she took my breath away. I nodded my head and took a step back. The lovely stranger followed my lead, walking a few steps into the room and taking a seat on an ottoman. I settled myself in the armchair opposite her, then looked at her sweet face again. She looked nervous. I smiled, then gestured to the coat rack next to the door.

She shook her head. “Oh, no thank you, I’m fine. But if you could just…” She held out the autograph book and pen again.

I took them from her, and we gasped when a spark of static electricity shocked our fingertips when we touched. I smiled when she laughed.

“I’m so sorry!” She drew back and clasped her hands in her lap.

I shook my head and shrugged, then opened the book. When I saw that it was very nearly full of signatures of legendary performers, many of whom had died many years ago, I looked up in astonishment.

“It belonged to my great-grandmother, then to my grandmother, my mother, and now it belongs to me.” The woman leaned forward and flipped through a few pages to the back with her fingers. “There. I think that spot next to Harry Houdini is big enough.”

My name, next to that of my hero, in this angel’s cherished book? I felt tears prick my eyes as I looked down and there it was. A blank space, in the shape of a heart, next to the legendary escape artist’s elegant autograph. I looked up at her questioningly. She nodded.

“Please. I would be so honored if you could sign there. Great-Grandma Josie loved Harry, if only from afar. She adored me, even though my mother gave me the same name as her romantic rival, who became Houdini’s first wife.”

“Beatrice.” The name fell out of my mouth, as easily as an apple falls off a tree.

Beatrice smiled, then leaned forward to wrap her small, warm hand around my large one, which had begun to shake.

“Please,” she whispered. “Call me Bess.”

* * *

“Oh Bess! Bess! Bess! Oh… FUCK YES! Oh my Bess!”

I daren’t close my eyes, lest I miss the sight of my angel, my Bess, as she began to climax. Eyes closed, cheeks rosy as we made love, she looked like a dream in my arms. Though we would not be husband and wife until morning, we had already checked into the honeymoon suite of The Grand Hiddlestonian together, and as such were doing what couples in love do.

“Oh darling, my… my… oh god!” Bess cried out as she writhed beneath me. Legs wrapped around my waist, she dug her heels into my buttocks, and I gladly took the signal to buck faster and harder into her. I could feel the muscles in my arms spasming as I braced myself, hovering over her. As much as I wanted to lie on her, feel her taut nipples pressed into my chest, nestle completely on her soft belly, and nip at the hollow of her throat, I kept my position.

I didn’t want to crush the baby.

“Bess! Bess! Bess!” I called out, and she replied with my name, the sweetest sound I have ever heard from my beloved’s lips. She moved her hands, which had been grabbing at my ass, up to my shoulders so she could pull me down to her. And so I collapsed, quite clumsily, then spilled inside her, moaning and whimpering into her sweet neck. I grunted as she tightened around me, her sweet pussy milking my cock of its seed, rolling her hips before relaxing into the mattress.

“Darling,” she whispered as she kissed my temple. “It’s alright. You can lie on me as you please. I assure you, Little is perfectly safe.”

I looked at her, returning the smile she graced me with. “Are you absolutely sure? You’re 10 weeks along now, and with all the excitement — the trial and the prison break and now with this wedding…”

“Hush, my love.” Bess kissed me on the lips. “Dr. Teeth said we should be perfectly fine to make love at our usual vigorous…” She laughed when I nipped at her ear. “... our usual vigorous pace just as long as I feel no pain when we do. But if I do, we stop and I go in for a checkup.”

“And are you sure you’re alright? No discomfort?” I let myself relax when Bess shook her head.

“My darling, lying here, your baby in my belly and your magnificent cock still inside me after you have, once again, brought me to ecstasy…” Bess sighed. “It’s the best feeling in the world.” Her eyes shined as she gazed up at me with adoration, and I was transported back to that tiny dressing room, so many years ago, when I fell in love with her just after the clock struck midnight on the first day of the new year, the first day of the rest of our lives.

“Bess, I love you. I cannot wait for you to become my wife.” I kissed the palm of her hand, which she brought up to my face so she could run her fingers over my lips, and tickle the mustache under my nose.

“Darling, I love you more. And I am counting the seconds until, at last, you are my husband.” My beloved turned to me, so that her lips met mine, and we kissed, slowly, deeply, passionately. I rolled onto my back and shifted so that Bess could snuggle into my side, and we fell into a deep and satisfying sleep. 

* * *

I was disappointed to find myself alone in bed the next morning. Next to my head there was a note on Bess’s pillow. It read:

> _Oh my darling Escapo, I decided to head to to the hotel spa to get an early start on my beauty rituals for our very special day! I want to be extra beautiful for you on the best day of our lives as man and pi-, excusez moi, man and wife! I will see you promptly at 12:00 in the Rose Lacquer Room. I’ll be the one in the wedding dress and lavender gloves. Kissy kissy kissy kissy!_

Bess had never used  _“excusez moi”_  or “kissy” with me, but I believed it was just a sign of her overwhelming love for me, and her excitement at the two of us being joined in matrimony.

As my best man, Alfred brought the rings and breakfast up to the suite at 10:00 sharp. I treated the two of us to shaves from the hotel barber, and head massages from an unsmiling Ukrainian named Boris who came recommended by the concierge. The barber groomed and waxed my mustache, protesting when I refused the small white blossoms he wanted to thread onto the tips he had carefully shaped into curlicues. Scooter arrived with our tuxedos and a telegram from the fellows at Gulag 38B.

> 13:00 GULAG TIME
> 
> THE GREAT ESCAPO
> 
> GREETINGS BROTHER IN BARS. CONGRATULATIONS TO YOU AND TO YOUR BRIDE BESS THE WILLING. WE WISH WE COULD BE THERE TO SEE YOU MARRIED TO YOUR “BALL AND CHAIN” - HA HA HA - BUT WE COULD NOT SECURE RELEASE IN TIME. PLEASE SEND SLICE OF WEDDING CAKE, HOPEFULLY WITH FILE OR KEY OR SAW EMBEDDED.
> 
> YOUR FRIENDS - PRISON KING, DANNY TREJO, BIG PAPA

Setting the telegram aside so that I could show it to Bess later, I began to dress with Scooter’s help (no small feat considering I stand over 6 feet tall and he, as a Muppet, barely cleared 2 feet). Once suited and booted, I took a deep breath then followed Alfred and Scooter down to the Rose Lacquer Room for the ceremony.

“Monsieur Escapo, it is my honor to escort your lovely bride down the aisle.”

Jean Pierre Napoleon snapped his heels and stood at attention when I walked up to find him standing in the corridor. He puffed his chest out for Scooter’s sister Skeeter who, as our wedding planner, slid a cluster of white jasmine blossoms into the lapel of his midnight blue tuxedo.

I bowed, first to Napoleon, then lower still to Skeeter so she could slip a boutonniere into my buttonhole. I bit my lip, which trembled.

“Monsieur Napoleon, are you married, or have you been married before?” My voice sounded shaky as I spoke. I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly to steady my nerves.

“Yes,  _mon ami_. And it was such a wonderful enterprise that I married three times!” His face fell a little, and he reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. “Sad to say, my ex-wives did not enjoy being married to me as I had wished.” He wiped his nose delicately.

“I’m so sorry…” I stammered.

Napoleon waved his hand at me. “Please. It was entirely my own doing. I loved my wives, but I loved my job more.” He opened his jacket to show off a heavy badge. “This badge is the only ring I shall wear, as I am forever wedded to my career.”

“But I love my career too…” I mused.

“But you love Mademoiselle Bess more? And the  _petit bebé, c’est vrai?”_  I nodded, and he continued. “Then that’s all you need to do. Love them, live for them. For that is all you need,  _n’est-ce pas?”_

 _“Oui. C’est tout,”_  I murmured.  _“Merci, mon ami.”_

 _“Ce n’est rien.”_  Napoleon held the door open.  _“Allons-y!_  Your bride will be here soon.”

* * *

Bess’s side of the wedding consisted mostly of her family, who still disapproved of me, long after she’d run away with me, joined me as my assistant and love, my partner on stage and in life. They were a grim lot, and as often as I longed to shout “Can you blame her for running away with me, you miserable gits?” whenever I saw them, I held my tongue.

My side was made up of colleagues from the circuit, the dancers and magicians, fire eaters and contortionists, that I, then Bess and I together, had worked with over the years. They all carried trick handkerchiefs which, in addition to being useful when employed in illusions, were perfectly serviceable for wiping away tears and blowing noses.

Dr. Teeth, resplendent in a velvet robe, his gold tooth gleaming in the candlelight, cleared his throat. He gave the sign for Electric Mayhem to begin playing a spirited version of Wagner’s Wedding Chorus. Our guests rose to their feet, all of us turning as the doors opened, and the bridal party began their march down the aisle.

Camilla and the chickens were, I thought, an usual choice for bridesmaids, but Bess was always surprising me. The chickens were followed by Bess’s cousin Tess and Tess’s sister Jess. And behind them was my bride, a vision in white. Her lace veil was pulled over her face, so I could only imagine the smile on her face as she drew closer. Bess walked slowly, almost a little unsteadily, as though she weren’t one body but several bodies trying to move as one in a long white dress. Napoleon grimaced whenever Bess appeared to lean too heavily on him.

“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” Dr. Teeth scatted these words, then smiled in anticipation of a reply.

Instead of responding, Napoleon stopped, arched his eyebrow, and stroked his chin. Turning his head, he looked at Bess, and at the lavender gloved arm that gripped his elbow. He sneered.

“This is no woman BUT A MUPPET!” Napoleon roared as he ripped the veil off Bess’s head to reveal, not my bride, but Miss Piggy, who screamed then collapsed onto the floor in a heap of lace and satin. From under her dress, Rizzo and the Muppet rats scurried out, yelling “It weren’t personal, she paid us!” before they were chased away by Scooter and Skeeter.

“Hai-ya!” Piggy flew up at Napoleon, karate-chopping him square on the jaw. But he could not be taken down, and so was able to wrap Piggy in her veil. A criminal burrito, who screamed in fractured French while all around us the room erupted in chaos. The band began to play their hit [“Love Ya To Death”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xt056fQX2RU) while Camilla and the Chickens tried to dance along. Bess’s family fainted in their seats, and the clowns on my side tried to revive them with spray bottles full of seltzer water. I grabbed Piggy around the shoulders, which was difficult as she wriggled in Napoleon’s grasp, and tried to get some answers.

“Why did you do it? Forget that! I don’t care why, but where is she? WHERE IS MY BESS?” I screamed at the pig, who went limp like a slice of undercooked bacon.

“Oh, please forgive  _moi_.  _Moi_  was so sad as… *hic*… Kermy and I are through. Oh I am too upset. I cannot speak!” She hacked dramatically then swooned, her purple eyelids fluttering shut.

“What’s wrong? Is there a frog in your throat?” I sneered.

Piggy’s eyes popped out at me. “Watch it, bub!”

I stood up and faced Napoleon, who nodded at me. “I’ve got the situation well in hand, sir. Go find your woman!” I ran down the aisle, leaping over a few stray chickens, and began to search The Grand Hiddlestonian for my beloved.

From the Rose Lacquer Room on the third floor to the Popper Lounge just off the lobby, nobody could remember seeing a beautiful woman, with soft cheeks, dark eyes, and a belly round with a little extra flesh and our sweet Little inside. Piggy’s note had said something about going to the spa… could that be where my darling Bess was tucked away?

Outside the spa entrance there was a folded screen, decorated with fans and flower-shaped signs advertising the spa’s many services. I heard a soft whimper coming from behind it, so I pulled it down and there was Bess, my splendid and loving Bess, curled up, still in her nightgown, clutching her autograph book and a pen. Carefully, I helped her sit, and cried with her when she realized it was I who had found her.

“Oh, my darling, my sweetheart!” She threw her arms around me and shed happy tears on my nec. “Are you alright? My head hurts so!”

I silenced her cries with kisses to her sweet lips. “My love, my love, my only love,” I whispered. “It was that Miss Piggy! I very nearly married that vile creature!”

“How could she?!” Bess looked forlorn. “I was so happy when we met this morning. I was just on my way out of the spa, where I made appointments for us to get massages tomorrow, when I ran into her. Or rather, she ran into me. Miss Piggy allowed me to fawn over her and beg for her autograph. I just happened to have my book on me. But when I leaned down so she could sign it, I felt a pain, and then everything went dark…” She sobbed into my neck, and I hugged her tightly.

“It’s not too late,” I whispered into her ear. “Napoleon can have her taken away, and we’ll have the ceremony, just as we planned.”

But Bess shook her head. “No. If it isn’t too much to ask, can we ask everybody to go away? Tell them we’re sorry, and we’ll have a party when we get back from our honeymoon. I want to marry you, but I want only you there, and Little, and somebody to marry us. Please?”

Nodding in agreement, I stood up and swept Bess into my arms. “I know just the person, and the place.”

* * *

“How did you find me?” Nadya, formerly of Gulag 38B and currently the head waitress at [Russian Tea Time](http://russianteatime.com/), the legendary Chicago tearoom, slid into a booth opposite us.

“I had heard you were in town. And Kermit confirmed it when he arrived to give a statement swearing he heard Miss Piggy would do anything to prevent Bess from marrying me.”

“Ah. How ees frog?” Nadya’s eyes softened as she looked, first at me, and then at Bess. She tapped an unlit cigarette out of a pack she withdrew from her shirt pocket, then tucked it behind her ear.

“He’s upset about Miss Piggy, who is now begging him to take her back. But he seemed happy to recommend you as our officiant.”

“Kermeet was always, how you say, gracious towards me. Though our love never came to be.” When Nadya sniffed, Bess held out a handkerchief. The Russian took it gracefully and wiped at the tears in her eyes. “And he ees correct. I can officiate weddings, in gulag and out. When?”

“Now,” whispered Bess. “Here.”

Nadya shrugged, then stood up from her seat. “Okay, but let’s stand up. Nobody gets married sitting down. Not even a  _Beremennaya_   _dama_  like you, Mees Bess.”

Bess blushed as I helped her up. “How did you know?”

“A woman, we know. We know these things.” Nadya leaned down and addressed Bess’s belly. “As you are only witness, I hope you remember this, leetle bay-bee.”

I laughed. “I hope he does, too.”

“Okay, enough funny business.” Nadya turned to me. “Do you…” She frowned. “Wait, what is your actual name? Ees not actually The Great Escapo, is it?”

I cleared my throat. “No, Nadya, it’s actually John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt.”

“Like song?” Nadya shook her head. “Ugh. No wonder you go by Escapo. Now, John, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

I looked at Bess, who wrapped her arms around me at the waist. Not wanting to look away, I whispered “I do” then leaned down to kiss her. I reached behind her ear and then produced the ring, waving it in the air before I slipped it onto her finger.

“NO KEES-SING YET.” Nadya addressed Bess. “Bess, do you take this ridiculous man to be your lawfully wedded hoos-band?”

Bess stood up on her toes to kiss me.

“That ees not suitable reply.”

“Yes,” Bess whispered. “I do.” She squealed when she took the ring, which she withdrew from behind my ear, and placed it on me.

“Now, by the powers vested in me by the state of Illinois, and whatever other useless government agencies may care about the pair of you, I pronounce you hoos-band and wife.” Nadya sighed. “And leetle bay-bee. Now kees.”

As soon as Nadya said the words “hoos-band and wife” I encircled Bess in my arms. I cried out as her lips met mine, as I felt her tongue slip into my mouth. We moaned as our kiss, our first as husband and wife, deepened and at long last we were one.

“Oh!” Bess took my hand and pressed it to her belly. She smiled as we both felt a flutter against our hands. “Do you feel that?”

I nodded as tears sprang to my eyes. “Hello, Little. Hello hello hello.”

* * *

We returned to a honeymoon suite that was full of flowers and decorations moved up from the Rose Lacquer Room. Everyone had been sent home, and the police, under the advisement of Napoleon, took Piggy away to Cook County Jail. Our cake, three tiers of yellow cake covered in white buttercream frosting, was intact in a cooler on the desk. In the corner was a tower of presents wrapped in gold paper, next to a basket overflowing with cards and cheques.

Bess sighed, then pulled me towards the bed, which was now scattered with pink rose petals. I pretended to sneeze as she crawled on top of the covers, pushing blossoms onto the floor.

“Silly husband,” sighed Bess. She smiled at me lazily as I shrugged off my jacket and shirt, then ran her eyes over me as I kicked off my socks and shoes and pulled off my trousers and boxers.

“Lovely wife,” I whispered in reply. I helped Bess take off her nightgown, then helped her lay on her back. “Pretty wife.” I kissed her on the lips, then began to kiss down her body. I ran my hands down her supple form, trailing my fingers lightly until they came to rest on her breasts.

“Warm wife.” I licked her nipples, one after the other, slowly and carefully. I drew the right into my mouth, sucking hard while I rolled the left between my thumb and forefinger.

“Oh please…” Bess murmured as I made no move to give her relief, to move away from her nipples and attend to the rest of her.

“Eager wife,” I chuckled after I released her hard nipple from between my lips. I massaged her breasts with my hands, then left one on her right breast as the other trailed after my mouth as it continued its journey down her body. I left wet kisses down her belly, swiping at her navel with my tongue, pausing to laugh with her after I did. I cooed over the swell of her hip, running my hands over them as I marveled at the stretchmarks, all silvery and pale, on her skin. I traced these too with my tongue, looking up only when I heard Bess weep.

“Oh those things! Please don’t.”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, darling wife. They’re part of you. I love them as I love you. I love them because they’re part of you. And they’re beautiful.” I kissed her hip. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Fool, ” Bess whispered.

“Perhaps,” I mused. “But I’m your fool.”

I resumed marking my trail of kisses along her hip, then shifted as I spread her legs before me. I nuzzled the tender flesh of her inner thighs, chuckling as I kissed her there, so close to her intimate heat. Bess rolled her hips for me, and I swiped at her sex with my tongue. She moaned when I flicked my tongue gently against her clit. I brought her legs up, draping them over my shoulders. My left hand stayed on her right breast, squeezing the globe in my hand and tracing my thumb over the nipple, while my right hand grasped the knee of her left leg. I placed my mouth over her sex, then began to push into her folds with my tongue.

Bess was so wet, so ready for me, that my cock ached to be inside her. But I had to taste her, had to kiss her deeply where she was so delicious and so hot. Her clit throbbed as I sucked on it then swirled around it with the tip of my tongue. I slid my tongue deep inside her again, in a vain attempt to keep up with the steady flow of her nectar, her honey. It coated my lips, my chin. I couldn’t get enough of it.

I could never get enough of her.

When I felt her hands in my hair, I looked up to find her gazing at me, her eyes heavy with lust.

“John,” whispered Bess. “Oh John.”

I closed my eyes again and flicked my tongue quickly over her clit, feather light strokes in contrast to the fingers I slipped inside her. Pumping away, I listened for the sound of her breath quickening before I slipped a thumb up to her clit, rubbing that in concert with my tongue’s movements.

“Oh! Oh! Shit! Fuck… oh my god! Ah! Yes! Oh John yes!” Bess’s hips twitched, then bucked as I continued to feast upon her. She whined as I sucked on her clit, hard and fast, and trapping it between my lips. I gasped as she came for me, her thighs coming together, soft and warm, around my head. When her legs fell slightly apart, sliding gently off my shoulders, I freed her clit from my lips, then blew gently on the tender nub.

“You… you…” Bess stopped to catch her breath. “Come here.”

I crawled back up to join her on the bed, flopping on my back next to her. Idly, I reached down to grab my cock. When I did, Bess, bit my shoulder, then reached for my hand.

“John.” She looked at me. “Love.”

“Eheheheheheh.” I could only manage a weak laugh, but fell silent as Bess went on her knees, her ass pointed towards me, then crouched down and took my cock between her soft lips. I bucked my hips when I felt her tongue on the head, swirling over and under it while her hands began to work slowly up and down my shaft. I could run my left hand down her back, over her buttocks, then between her legs, where my fingers eventually found their way to her sex. I slipped a finger inside her, barely moving it as her head bobbed up and down on me.

The sound of her licking and suckling was maddening. Her hot mouth on my hard cock was the most exquisite torture, her tongue flicking at and tracing every inch of me. Her hands caressed me where her mouth could not, grasping my testicles or squeezing the shaft. I belonged to her, body and soul, and here she was to claim me once again. When I felt her take me completely into her mouth, when I could feel my cock hit the back of her throat, I groaned.

“Baby, I don’t know how much longer I can… I want to come in you. Darling, please let me fuck you.”

Bess moved, releasing my cock from her mouth. She turned around so I could see her face, which was flushed with pleasure and exertion. I helped her straddle my hips, but let her take me in hand as she positioned my cock at her entrance. We both groaned as she sank down on me, and took a moment when I was fully seated within her.

Eyes closed, my beloved wife sat perfectly still for a moment, then another, before rolling her hips. She leaned forward, planting her hands on my abdomen, her breasts enticing me as Bess rode me. I reached up and grasped them, squeezed her magnificent tits in my hands, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to feel them, feel her, close to me. Pushing myself up, I sat and wrapped my arms around her. I nipped at the base of her throat, then closed my eyes as I let myself be consumed by the sensation of her body on mine.

The wet silken flesh of her sex, so warm and welcoming as my cock thrust up into her. Her breasts, so soft and supple against my chest. Her lips found mine as she leaned in to kiss me, to suck on my tongue and nibble at my jaw. Her fingers in my hair, then brushing against my mustache. I slipped a hand between us, capturing her clit between two fingers. Bess whimpered into my ear when I began to move my hand, the sensitive bundle of nerves slipping and sliding under my touch. I kept my other hand firmly on her backside, pushing her down firmly when my fingers on her clit caused her to squirm away from me. She panted, then begged for me to fuck her harder. I sucked her tongue into my mouth, and kissing her roughly. She moaned wantonly, begging for more of the same, for more of me. I lay back, taking her with me so she lay on top of me. Bess bit my chest when I moved both hands to her ass, squeezing them as I moved my hips up into her. She rocked her hips into mine, meeting every thrust with a snap that had me keening for her. Moving together, gasping together, I called to her. She responded and together we came, hard, with a sense of relief, of completion, of utter bliss.

Oh Bess. My willing and wonderful Bess.

* * *

Three weeks after our wedding, and a few days after returning from our honeymoon, Bess and I were at Dr. Teeth’s office for another sonogram. The room was dim, and the three of us peered at the display. The good doctor looked at us, a gleam in his eye.

“Little looks great, as I knew he or she would. You sure you don’t want to know the sex?”

Bess nodded. “We want to be surprised.” I squeezed her hand in agreement.

“Ooookay, but just so you know I’ve got two secrets to keep from you crazy kids.”

“Two secrets? What do you mean two?” I looked at Dr. Teeth, then at the display, and back at Bess.

“Wait, do you mean…” Bess’s eyes grew wide.

Dr. Teeth nodded, then handed us each a lollipop.

“You two are having two babies. Twins! How about that?!”


End file.
